


in the dust of this planet

by meowrails



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bottom Stephen Strange, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, M/M, Post-Endgame, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reunions, Slow Dancing, Trans Male Character, Trans Stephen Strange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:47:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29987244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowrails/pseuds/meowrails
Summary: ‘I missed you,’ isn't enough.Thanos has been defeated, Stephen returns. It's been long five years.
Relationships: Stephen Strange/Wong
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	in the dust of this planet

**Author's Note:**

> So i started writing this fic after watching endgame on its release date with my friends (remember movie theaters?)
> 
> I decided to finish it after a few years of leaving it untouched. I'm back on my doctor strange bullshit, and I can't believe how much i've missed thinking about these two.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> IMPORTANT: Stephen is transgender in this fic but I use "feminine" terms for his genitals because, as a trans man myself, is what I personally find attractive. The sex scene is short and easily skippable if you don't like it.

_ “In that moment of recognition he is not consumed by a rushing sensation of love—quite simply a door opens to a room that has never gone away. The years apart were just years without one another.” _ _   
_ _   
_ **_Simon Van Booy_ **

\---

After the dust returns to its rightful place, Stephen and Wong return to their quiet sanctum, away from the rest of their healing world.

Wong can't bring himself to look at Stephen in the eye. He can't truly look at him. When Stephen came back, they had more important things to worry about. They had a great evil to defeat and a world to save. Stephen had to wrangle each and every useful hero as Wong grouped up all the students he'd been desperately trying to wrangle and forget about for the past five years. Wong had tried to forget a lot of things during the past five years.

But now they won and they have all the time in the world. Stephen stands beside him in silence like the dreams he’s had so many times before. Five years lends itself to a lot of fantasies, wondering what he might do if Stephen ever came back. Now, Wong stands frozen, looking away, and wondering if there are any words in the many languages that he knows that would describe the ache in his chest at the sight of the man beside him.

‘ _ I missed you, _ ’ isn't enough.

It took Wong days to accept that Stephen wasn't going to come back after the snap. It took him weeks to realize that, now that Stephen was gone, he had no one left but dozens of remaining students and masters counting on him to lead them. It took him four years to finally stop thinking about Stephen and move on. It might have been easier to move on had he talked to someone, but that's not the way he does things.

The memories of Stephen haunted him in a way no one else's passing did. It’s the little things. Eating together. Studying in silence. Training until they were near the point of exhaustion. Before Stephen, no one else had tried to impress him or actively tried to make Wong like him. Wong wasn't the sort of person to easily like others. Yet Stephen crashed into his life like a meteor, burned out and otherworldly. How could Wong say no?

“Wong-” Stephen begins carefully as it becomes abundantly clear that Wong is not going to start the much needed conversation. “It's been a long time, my friend.”

Wong looks at Stephen for the first time in five years. Without the worry of imminent destruction, without the peering eyes of others who just don't  _ understand _ . The rush of memories comes in a harsh wave. Wong remembers  _ everything,  _ every shared gaze and every lingering touch. Wong has no idea where to put all these memories down.

“It has,” He says. It’s all he can bring himself to say. 

Somehow, Stephen is the level headed one in this situation. A hand comes to Wong's shoulder. “This might be a bit weird, but... it's been a while since I had a good cup of tea. I think we both deserve one. Would you like some tea, Wong?”

Wong nods, pretending he's just too tired to speak, and slowly follows Stephen to the kitchen. He makes tea exactly like Wong taught him, adding a bit honey for his cup and nothing for Wong's. The cups glide to his grasp by magic, Stephen's own floating when he's not drinking it. 

Just like old times.

Stephen crosses his arms and looks at the table between them. “How were things while I was gone?”

“Difficult.” Wong mumbles. It takes him a moment to collect his thoughts. Stephen deserves a proper explanation. “I became Master of this sanctum in your absence. Hamir took over Kamar-Taj, and we have had to promote a couple of students before they were properly ready to make up for the lack of masters. I mostly stayed here... in silence.”

Stephen gives him a gentle smile. “I'm sure you appreciated the silence.”

“No. I didn't.”

The smile of Stephen’s face falters. “Well, now you have me to ruin your silence again. And the cloak.” The relic waves to him, seemingly eager to see Wong again. 

Wong allows his expression and shoulders to relax. It's been so long since they have. “It's good to have you back, Strange.”

Stephen doesn't wait a beat before resting a shaking hand over Wong's. It still trembles against his skin ever so slightly, even when he turns his palm to hold it. Even with the scars, his skin is so soft. Wong didn't expect it to be so soft.

“It's been a long five years. We should get some rest.” Stephen says quietly, like a secret that should only be shared between the two of them. “Is it too much to ask you to stay the night?”

Wong huffs like Stephen just asked the most ridiculous thing in the world. It's almost like he did. “Of course not. Let’s go to bed.”

Stephen squeezes his hand with the little strength he has left. “Let's go to bed.”

The ‘ _ I missed you’  _ is left unspoken.

\---

Most things between them are left unspoken.

There's no reason to discuss why Wong is so quick to sleep beside Stephen. His personal space is sacred, the thought of allowing someone into it without much preamble felt blasphemous. Then again, two years of pining and five years of mourning is enough preamble for the two of them. Stephen fits against Wong's chest like he was made to rest there, and there's nothing that has to be said about the way Wong gently strokes Stephen’s hair as the younger sorcerer wakes up and looks up at him.

“Feels nice to have a good night's sleep for the first time in a thousand years,” Stephen says, eyes looking not as exhausted.

“It was only five years.” Wong comments until it finally clicks, somewhat. “Oh... That's how you knew.” 

Stephen closes his eyes and rests his forehead back against Wong’s chest. “One-thousand years looking at fourteen million possibilities. But that's a tale for some other time.” 

Wong shifts uncomfortably. He knows they should at least talk about  _ that _ eventually, but asking Stephen to talk about his feelings is like trying to get a puppy to sit still. It’s doable but difficult. As with Wong... well, Wong has never really said what he's feeling. He has no idea what he can compare it to.

“Did you see this in your vision for this timeline?”

“Sometimes, but I... didn't have time to dwell on it for too long.” Stephen says, sounding more relaxed. “It’s a pleasant surprise, thought. You're very... warm.” 

Wong hums. "You will have to tell me about what you saw eventually, Stephen. For the records, I'm sure there is a lot of valuable information to be gained from so many timelines."

Stephen lets out a hollow chuckle. "There is..."

"And... it is imperative that I make sure the state of your mind is stable enough for you to continue to be the Master of this Sanctum."

Stephen rests his head on Wong's chest. "Didn't you take up the position of Master here?" He says, muffled.

"Yes, but I would rather be in the library."

"Can there be co-masters of a Sanctum? I'm sure there's a nice library here."

Wong sighs. "You're deflecting."

The younger sorcerer falls silent, face still pressed to Wong's chest. He takes Wong's hand to guide it to his temple. Wong notices how Stephen's hands are bigger than his own, but so much more delicate. Always trembling against Wong's steady grip.

Wong takes the opportunity to gently pull Stephen's head back and cup his face. Nothing needs to be said, but the look on Stephen's face is already speaking. There are words hidden behind the faint blush on Stephen's cheeks. An entire song can be written in dedication to the way Stephen Strange parts his lips. Wong could write novels on the way Stephen's blue, green, and yellow eyes glance from his mouth to his own. 

And yet Wong is left speechless.

"You look, if you want." Stephen says quietly. "Look through the memories. Check how I'm doing it. I give you permission."

"Surface level only, I promise."

"If you wish. I trust you, Wong."

The feelings he receives from Stephen's temple are what he expected -- exhaustion, sadness, lost, defeat even after they won. 

Wong gives into temptation and looks beyond it.

Longing. Warmth. Safety. Want _. Want.  _ _ Want _ .

And a hint of arousal.

His fingers flinch as he finds it. He moves his hand from Stephen's face entirely. 

Stephen flushes with recognition, but says nothing as he breaks eye contact.

"I should shower." Wong says, then gets off the bed. "As should you."

"Is that an invitation?" Stephen asks. It's a joke he's made before in various ways, it always registered to him as nothing more than a joke. He doesn't know what to make of it now. He replies with his usual huff and heads to one of the multiple bathrooms across the sanctum. Stephen can use the one in this room. 

Stephen sits up and speaks before Wong leaves the room. "Could we go out to eat? I'm starving."

Wong nods. "Of course."

The younger mage gives him a smile. Wong doesn't return it, but feels it in his chest for the rest of the day.

\---

Wong likes having a routine, which is why the two go out to the same deli beside their favorite bodega. He'll never admit that he mostly goes there to pet the cats. Stephen insists on going so often, thought. Wong wonders if it's just to watch him coo at the old, white cat to purrs immediately at his touch.

He breaks the rule only for a moment and brushes his hand against Stephen's as they leave. The younger man feels jealousy. From watching Wong pet a cat? Preposterous.

Stephen doesn't seem to notice as he walks. "We should get a pet for the sanctum."

"I am not sure anything below a familiar is allowed."

"Is that in the rules? Never heard you said that you  _ think _ instead of that you know. Wong, we need a pet."

Wong sighs. "Once you have recuperated, neither of us will have the free time to tend to an animal. We are already busy enough as it is."

"What about a cat?" Stephen hums. "Very independent, self sufficient. Heavens know we need something to kill the rats. And the other... outer dimensional critters that sneak in through the barriers."

Wong opens the door for him. "The sanctum is full of things that could kill a human if they're not careful enough. Imagine a small animal."

Stephen practically pouts, but waves a hand. He knows that the man will bring up the topic again. Stephen is nothing but stubborn, but he's smart. He must know that Wong adores cats. 

If he brings it up again, he might just let him win.

They order their sandwiches and eat in comfortable silence. Wong does make an expression when Stephen rubs the front of his boots with his in some form of comforting gesture that Wong doesn't understand. It must've been easier for the man to flirt when he was rich. Everything he does now is awkward, traditional, and slightly annoying. Wong finds it lovely.

Stephen wipes his mouth when he finishes and looks at Wong. He only ate half of his sandwich, Wong will simply take it home so Stephen can eat it later.

_ Home,  _ he thinks.  _ It feels like a home. _

"How long are you going to stay until I'm better?"

"As long as you need. It would be irresponsible as your teacher and trainer to leave you alone after... all of this. I helped take care of the students who lost loved ones back in Kamar-Taj. I believe I'm... capable."

"Well, y'know what they say. Doctors make the worst patients." Stephen chuckles.

Wong smiles. "Yes, they do."

Stephen glances at the hand he's resting on the table. He takes a sip of his coffee, carefully holding it with both hands but keeping it steady with magic. "Wong? Can I ask you something?"

"You do little else."

"Once I get better... more stable, are you leaving New York?"

Wong blinks. He considers himself a smart man, the sort of person who tries to consider every possible outcome before taking action. He's been so worried about Stephen that he's forgotten what his true purpose is. He has to lead, he has to take care of the Hong Kong Sanctum. He has to train the next set of Sorcerers, especially after their massive loss of students from Kaecilius  _ and  _ the 'blip'.

"Yes, I will. I have much to do that has fallen to the other master's shoulders."

"I understand." Stephen nods, face neutral.

Wong grits his teeth together and focuses on his finished food. His life has always revolved around magic, study, and practice -- just as it did his father and the man before him. He's had sex before, as well as friendships. He's had short lived relationships in his youth that he quickly realized he didn't have time for.

He's loved before. He's fallen in love before. But he never acted on his affection for Mordo. 

Stephen offers him a hand.

The blip changed everything. So many loses, so much responsibility to keep it all in control as the weight of the future of Kamar-Taj seemed to fall on him. How did the Ancient One survive with so many eyes on her at all times, begging for answers? 

It got worse once he realized that he missed Stephen's awful jokes and irritating presence. Even worse was realizing that he was never that irritating, he was just trying to get Wong's affection. The man was just trying to make a friend.

He takes Stephen's trembling hand. He can't squeeze it in reassurance, so he sends his emotions instead. Stephen should feel affection, protection, perhaps even a little inkling of possessiveness.

Wong feels nothing but relief, a tired ache, and a feeling he doesn't want to name just yet, no matter how nice it feels.

"It's... odd." Stephen looks around them. The diner is full but somber. Everyone speaks in a whisper or doesn't speak at all. It's only been a few weeks since the blip, after all. There are parents trying to get used to the sight of their older children. There are siblings who are now the same age. Lovers who passed on. There are people who came back with no one to say hello to. Those sit alone, he can always tell them apart. 

Stephen looks at the man in front of him. If it wasn't for him, he would be sitting alone too.

"Hey."

Wong sets down his drink. "Hello."

"You know... it's weird. None of the... none of the others have come by to visit since. That Parker kid came by to say  _ hi  _ once, but I barely knew the kid."

Wong chooses his words carefully. "Did you want them to?"

Stephen shakes his head. "Not sure. I've saved the world twice now and no one knows it, and I don't mind it at all. You know they're making a  _ Stark Remembrance Day _ in this state? Statues for Rogers in museums. Dedications, foundations, honors... I would've done anything for those before. Now it's just... lonely."

"Hopefully not entirely lonely."

Stephen smiles. "No. Not entirely."

Wong hums. "Well, it would also be quite difficult to create a statue of you, Stephen."

The American snorts, "Because it would be hard to capture my beauty?"

"Stop stealing my lines." Wong frowns.

Stephen laughs. It destroys the miserable aura of the diner as he lets out a laugh with a crooked smile. Wong thinks it suits him — everyone looks so different when they're happy. 

"Wong?"

"Yes, Strange?"

"Let's go back home."

There was a time when Wong would have scolded him for calling such an important and holy place his home. Wong's home has, and always will be, Kamar-Taj. The past five years have softened him into a man that wants and desires.

Or at least, a man who is able to say it aloud.

"Yes."

\---

Stephen switches the teleportation doors and closes it. The sounds of a distant farm were the only sounds that echoed through the halls of the Sanctum at the time. Wong noticed the sound was calming and took his time finding a sight similar to his Nebraskan home, with nothing but corn and plain land. Wong didn't see the appeal, but the wind was nice.

Stephen closes his eyes and rests his head against the door.

"Stran- Stephen," Wong says, lowering his book. He pauses and sets it aside. "How are you feeling?"

The younger man groans. "Just the same. Worse today. I'm not getting any better..."

Wong stands and walks to the nearby record players. "Would this help?"

Stephen lets out a hollow laugh. "Sure. Your pick."

It's an inside joke between them at this point. Stephen doesn't have a stack of records, mostly because he can't afford any at the moment. If he wants to listen to a specific record, he opens a portal to the storage rooms he knows his former collector "friends" owned. He always puts them back once he's done. Wong doesn't understand it — why let such perfectly good vinyls collect dust? Why waste much money on a luxury you will never use?

He was never a rich man. He isn't interested in understanding why, either.

He opens the portal to the rich man's jazz section — it's something he knows they both enjoy. Wong doesn't know about music as much as Stephen does, he picks the first recognizable name he sees.

The first few notes of a gentle trumpet plays from the record players. Stephen smiles. "Solitude by Billie Holiday, 1956. That's a classic."

Wong nods and closes the portal beside him. "It's... soothing, I thought. And I enjoy it."

Stephen absentmindedly taps his feet as he changes to his casual clothing through a changing spell. A black shirt and comfortable pants that are easy to put on. Velcro shoes as well. It feels appropriate to dress down for something so casual as listening to music, and the possibility of them studying later today is unlikely. He does the same, dressing down to a similar outfit. 

Stephen walks towards him, still tapping his foot away to Holiday singing  _ Blue Moon _ . He's not good, but he has a sense of rhythm at the very least. It's more than he expected.

"I don't dance." Wong says sternly. Stephen ignores him and takes him by his arm, gently swaying them from side to side. Wong doesn't protest but frowns as he carefully takes Stephen's hand, his other resting on the slender man's hip.

"Neither do I. This is all I can do. Doesn't stop me from trying."

Wong huffed. "I'm sure you embarrassed many of your former lovers."

"I didn't get to dance with a lot of them. It wasn't that kind of arrangement." Stephen says, voice softening. "Christine liked it. She thought it was cute. Do you?"

"Hm, somewhat."

Stephen chuckles. "Well, the next songs are slower. Don't worry. Just indulge me for a bit."

Wong squeezes his hips. "These days I do little else."

"But you enjoy it, though."

"At times." Wong admits, it still makes Stephen smile.

They sway in silence as Stephen leads their movements. He sings with the voice of someone who could have been quite good if he received any training when he was younger. Wong enjoys it all the same. 

The swing beat shifts into a dreamlike, longing piano. "Oh, I really like this one..."

_ You go to my head. And you linger like a haunting refrain — _

Wong lets out a deep breath. Stephen hums, "Did you pick this album on purpose?"

"I... am not very familiar with this album."

"Fate, then. You picked something very fitting." Stephen says in a neutral tone. Wong knows that tone by now, he's trying not to ask the question that lingers between them. 

_ Though I'm certain that this heart of mine. Hasn't a ghost of a chance in this crazy romance — You go to my head. _

Stephen looks down at their feets. "Perhaps not entirely fitting."

Wong stands still, Stephen shortly follows suit. "Wong?"

The older sorcerer stops. His hand moves on its own accord as it rests on Stephen's cheek. Stephen is real, tangible,  _ living.  _ Five long years waiting for the return of his friend. The man he loved. He had so much time to prepare for this moment and he finds himself tongue tied. He can't think of a book passage to help him. All his years of training have melted away and left a man mute.

"Wong," Stephen says gently. "What did you do while I was gone?"

Wong shakes his head. "You didn't warn me of your decision. All the Avengers told me that was that you went into a trance and saw millions of possibilities. They thought you were a traitor to humanity when you gave away the stone." He pauses. "I thought the same when I saw you go into the Dark Dimension. It's the reason Mordo left us. But I knew you are a sacrificial fool. You were then and you still are now. I had to have faith in you."

Stephen places his shaking hand over Wong's. If Wong shifts his touch, he can feel the scars graze against his own. He can feel the coldness of the steel beneath his skin. Wong hopes he finds warmth in his touch.

"But there were days I doubted you. Days where I couldn't help but become so, so angry at your decision. I had no idea if it would work. And now..."

"I'm here."

Wong nods.

"And the world is slowly being put back together, thanks to you."

Stephen humbles himself. "I'd say it's thanks to a lot of things. A lot of specific little moments."

"That you  _ saw _ , Stephen. I never understood why The Ancient One allowed you to join. You came back, and now I do. It was always supposed to be you."

The American's face is flushed now, an endearing shade of red that he's never seen up close. Wong brushes his cheekbone with his thumb. 

"Jesus, Wong. Did you have this prewritten?" He chuckles nervously, trying to ease the tension. Despite it, Stephen edges closer to him, their chests pressing together. 

"No. I just took a few improv classes while you were gone."

Stephen widens his eyes. "Wait, really?"

Wong only gives him a shrug in return. Stephen shakes his head and laughs. 

He squeezes Wong's hand and sends his feelings. Calm, content, happy — he hasn't felt that in Stephen in so, so long. He hasn't felt it in himself, either.

And another hint of arousal. 

Wong can't ignore his own this time. He  _ could  _ run and take a shower. He could also stop hiding. There was no reason to do so in the first place.

They rest their heads together. Nothing has to be said. They're both adults, they know what this feeling is. Wong isn't an idiot, he doesn't think this will help heal Stephen beyond giving him a comforting presence he can rely on. But they both feel it all the same. Stephen gives him a kiss on the cheek, testing the waters. Wong returns it touch with a kiss to his lips, tender and slow. Stephen's lips are full and sweet. He kisses like he hasn't been kissed in centuries. It's endearing and heartbreaking all at once. 

"Wong, please take me to bed."

"Are you certain, Stephen?"

Stephen nods. He takes Wong's hands and looks into his eyes, dizzy with desire. Stephen's arousal carries over to his skin and blends with his own. The shared feeling in itself is so intense Wong is scared Stephen might just faint.

"Yes.  _ Yes _ , you idiot. More than anything. I'm asking - I'm begging you to touch me. If I was dead, I would've haunted you just to ask you the same thing."

Wong can't get his sling ring from his pocket quickly enough to push Stephen onto the largest mattress in the Sanctum. A place of worship. Stephen moans out his name as if he were praying. 

\---

  
  


It's difficult to deal with a trauma that no mere mortal would understand. There are therapists in Kamar-Taj, but Stephen refuses to speak to them. As much as he exhausts Wong, he understands. Wong has had a relatively nice life and yet he keeps his emotions deep inside his soul. He could count the times he's ever cried in public in one hand. Possibly three fingers.

Stephen has mentioned a few of the things he's seen, all more terrible than the last. Dismembered friends, a world of ruin, even visions where there wasn't a world at all. He always speaks with a distant look on his eye. He astral projects and drifts over New York City to remind himself it's all real. Everyone is back.

Wong places a hand over his shoulder to remind Stephen of the same. The younger sorcerer takes it with his shaking hand, flipping through the teleportation doorways just to make sure the world is still breathing and beautiful. 

It hasn't all been futile. Stephen has been doing a lot of yoga, much to Wong's already crumbling self-control. He meditates without leaving his body. He listens to podcasts to help him sleep.

But he never talks about it. Wong is not naive enough to think that he will be the one to get Stephen to open up, but he cares for him all the same. He's stable enough that Wong can visit Kamar-Taj for training for hours on end and find Stephen working on his studies and occupying himself with something else. It's almost enough to make him believe Stephen would be fine being left alone, without much supervision.

Except he still finds Stephen dissociating. He finds him floating and thinking of nothing at all. He comes home with gifts from Kamar-Taj and finds him on the floor, melting away into green goo as his cloak desperately tries to lift him back to a human form.

Wong offers him food and a hand all the same. Nothing. He calls him a drama queen. Nothing. He offers him to carry him to bed. Nothing. He accidentally steps on the green goo.

The master sorcerer frowns and pretends to form a portal back to the base.

"No. Come back. Sorry-" Stephen says, solid once more. "I'm starving."

"It's like trying to get a toddler's attention with you."

Stephen rolls his eyes and makes himself melt again. Wong crosses his arms.

"And you said this spell was useless." The younger sorcerer says, goo bubbling dramatically.

Wong manages to pry him off the floor, back in his body once more. They eat in the rooftop garden that has taken over the upper part of the Sanctum. Vines and flowers that are most likely not from this world envelop the ground. Wong didn't have the time to keep it kept. Stephen enjoys the privacy it gives him. The cloaking magic of the building even works on animals, the flowers of Obricon-8 will thankfully not become an invasive species anytime soon.

Stephen takes small bites of his thakali khana. He only finishes one of the bowls out of all his options, while Wong has set it aside after eating four. 

He looks at the rice sadly. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Wong asks.

"For being a disappointment. For keeping you here so much. The Ancient One probably went through stuff worse than this and she still held strong. I'm drained all the time, horrified by realities that never even happened and will never happen. I feel... ruined."

Silence echoes between them amongst the greenery. Stephen sets down his rice bowl and clenches his trembling hands.

"You are being foolish if you think that the Ancient One, powerful and mighty as she was, chose to contain her emotions and simply carry on." Wong frowns. "I have seen her cry before. She didn't hide it. She told us to avoid spells that lessen your emotions. I feel Stephen. I feel so much. I'm just good at hiding it for the sake of my own privacy. When I am alone, I feel it all. I saw you feel so much when you joined us."

"Things have happened."

"You went through a horror that no one has ever gone through. It was terrible, Stephen, and you went through it alone. You are allowed to cry and feel more than anyone."

"You wanted to be there with me?"

"Absolutely not." Wong deadpans. It gets Stephen to smile, at least.

The American closes his eyes and chokes. "Thousand years with Dormammu and another thousand with Thanos. I'm too old for this shit." He lets out a hollow chuckle. "Two-thousand years and I didn't learn anything."

Wong sighs, "Stephen-"

"Wong, I saw you die. I saw you die too many times. I never want to see it again." Stephen whispers. "Tony's gone. Mordo's... left us. The Ancient One's gone. Christine... has her own life to live. You're all I have."

Wong opens his mouth to speak, then closes it.

Stephen has nothing else to say. A moment of clarity has given him a chance to cry. And so he sobs, tears falling to slender, broken hands.

"Stephen, give me your hand." Wong says, not knowing how to make it sound like a request instead of a command.

Stephen slowly offers it palm up. Waiting. Begging.

Wong takes it and presses it to his cheek. Stephen lets out the gentlest  _ oh _ as Wong allows him to feel everything. Yearning, protectiveness, comfort, tenderness, ache —

And love. The sort of love that's still curious and careful. Love that just bloomed, so fragile it could die easily if not tended for properly. Stephen has had enough deaths to last a thousand lifetimes.

The Ancient One had helped him with a fit of rage once, back when Stephen had just joined. The man drove him insane, nosy and loud — the exact portrait of every American tourist he'd ever seen — he thought Stephen was nothing more than an awful soldier who was only there to take their magic and leave, possibly sell their methods to the naive. The Ancient One had whispered that there are realities where Stephen is the most important person in his life. Realities where their love for each other is the only thing keeping them alive. Wong lived in fear of the truth ever since.

He holds Stephen's hand and feels the man return his affections. Perhaps it's a fixed point in every universe for them to find each other covered surrounded by grief and longing. Perhaps they are meant to find comfort in each other.

"When will you be able to stay again?"

Wong lets go of Stephen's hand. The younger man takes it back.

He considers the question. "In a week. The students have their tests, and I have to organize their drills-"

"Ah, finals week." Stephen jokes. Wong huffs.

"Can you wait that long?" Wong asks, remembering how impatient the man used to be.

Stephen looks at him like a dream. "Wong, a week is nothing. I'm over two-thousand years old, remember?"

"Quite the age gap." Wong retorts.

"Pretty raunchy. If the Ancient One was here I'd have to ask her if I can take you out."

"I'm sure she would enjoy the theatricts. And embarrassing us."

They say nothing else. The garden snakes  _ aww _ in their annoying chorus, for once not flinging catcalls and insults. The mood flowers turn red. The sentient vines gently wrap around their ankles and squeeze in support.

Wong stands and gives Stephen a kiss to his temple. 

"Take care of yourself for me." Wong pauses. "Please."

Stephen stares into the distance and nods.

\---

Wong hasn't had to deal with the certain promise of sex in a while.

The last five years have been far too busy for him to even think about anything more than something quick and simple. He doesn't mind it, sex doesn't plague his mind like it does for anothers. The thought of Stephen desiring him in that way didn't cross his mind until they shared a bed when he returned.

And then, there was the night they shared. But that was a shared, desperate frenzy that he didn't think happened anywhere other than romance books. This? This is something planned, decided.  _ Expected _ . He clenches his fists with anticipation.

Wong treats it as any other day. He bathes, he eats, he wonders if he should bother going in casual clothing. He chooses his robes -- he's far too old to care about what he's wearing solely to impress someone else.

He arrives at the Sanctum via his sling ring and breathes in the familiar scent of the old house and Stephen's presence. Wong walks up the stairs, sending his energy throughout the house so as to not startle the man.

Stephen emerges from the kitchen in nothing but a t-shirt and pajama pants, the cloak hanging comfortably on his shoulders.

"You didn't give me time to change." Stephen huffs. Wong stops himself from chuckling. "Give me a bit."

"You don't have to, Stephen."

"I just... wanna look nice for you. I guess this count as our third date?"

Wong doesn't react, he isn't sure how he should. He nods instead, looking around the kitchen for something to drink.

"You... don't have to if you don't want to, Wong. The other was... a spur of the moment thing. .This better not be pity sex."

Wong huffs, "I was about to tell you the same thing. And no, it is not. I was attracted to you back when I only thought you were pathetic and annoying."

"Let me guess, I'm not pathetic anymore?"

"Ah, you stole my joke." Wong deadpans.

Stephen chuckles and steps closer to Wong, resting his hands on his shoulders. "I didn't just call you here for sex, you know. There's some rituals I need help with."

"You only like me for my big brain." Wong teases. 

"Amongst other big things..."

Right, Wong had only used his mouth and hands on Stephen the last time they had sex. He didn't care about finishing, he just wanted to feel Stephen shaking and saying his name.

"You're going to be disappointed if you assume such things all the time."

Stephen raises an eyebrow. "So I assumed wrong?"

"No."

The younger sorcerer throws his head back and laughs, resting his head on Wong's shoulder as the laughter finally subsides. Wong lets out a single chuckle, more than he has in so, so long.

\---

Stephen is trembling beneath him. For once, it isn't out of misery or pain.

"Strange, are you alright?"

The American groans. "I-Is it in yet?"

Wong can't help but smirk in a sort of ridiculous, masculine pride. "Just the tip of it."

"Oh.  _ Gods _ ." Stephen gently moves his hips back against Wong's cock, trying to take all of his lover inside him. It's been so long. Stephen's tight heat is almost enough to make Wong want to move his own hips, but he's nothing but patient. Stephen is already desperate from the preparation. Wong has never seen such a brave, selfless man crumble so easily. "Keep going."

Wong lifts up Stephen's slender hips to move his own. He breathes out and closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling of Stephen clenching around him. He hears the man say his name in his low, rumbling voice. Wong is completely focused on Stephen's pleasure. He braces his hands on either side of Stephen's head and fucks him until the rest of his cock is buried deep into Stephen's hole. The american whines, nodding feverishly as if he's answering every question Wong wants to ask him.

"Is this alright?" Wong asks, just to tease.

Stephen frowns, "Of course it's fucking alright.  _ God _ , just fuck me already."

"Don't be rude, Stephen."

Stephen lets out a grumbled  _ sorry _ and closes his eyes again. Wong moves in slow, hard thrusts that make the sorcerer groan. He allows himself to indulge, sitting up to toy with Stephen's chest as he fucks him. He's not the sort to have preferences, he prefers the personality of the man rather than their appearance, but he does love the sight of Stephen's toned chest. He toys with the man's nipples, sensitive even after his surgery. Stephen arches his back and moves his hips, wanting more. 

"Fuck _ fuckfuck-"  _ Stephen takes one of Wong's hands and guides it to his clit. Wong doesn't need to be told what to do. He presses his thumb to Stephen's mouth and watches the younger sorcerer obediently suckle on it. He does not ignore the small pout that escapes the man when he takes his finger away to touch his clit, he can toy with the idea of his fingers in Stephen's mouth the next time they have sex.

_ Gods _ , the next time. He moves at a faster pace, focusing solely on the sight of Stephen writhing beneath him. Stephen grabs his arm with the little bit of strength his hands allow him to have. Wong grunts at the slight scrape of a fingernail against his flesh. Stephen gasps, Wong already recognizes the sound of Stephen needed to cum soon. 

"Wong- Oh my gods." Stephen wraps his arms around his neck. "Get closer. I wanna feel you on me."

"How much closer can I be?" Wong chides, but easily grabs Stephen by wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him closer. Stephen lifts his knees up with his ridiculous flexibility, allowing Wong to push as deep as possible.

"You can ...c-cum inside me." Stephen practically pleads. Wong groans and buries his face to the crook Stephen's neck. He breathes heavily at Stephen's words, Stephen's touch. Every little noise Stephen makes that makes him sound so vulnerable. Wong feels like he's been gifted with an incredible secret. He offers Stephen the same, because gods know what the students and masters would think of him if they discover he likes to hold his lovers tightly. Closely. He likes to treat Stephen with all the tenderness he wasn't allowed to have. Stephen brushes his fingers over face and kisses him as he cums, repeating his name over and over. How much dignity would he lose if they ever learn that the sound of Stephen saying his name might be his favorite sound of all?

"In me.  _ In me. _ Pleaseplease _ please. _ " Stephen begs. Perhaps it's some sort of fetish they'll have to discuss later one. Right now, all Wong can focus on is the most base desire to claim the man he loves. He cums with a harsh breath and gritted teeth. Stephen hums and strokes his back as Wong gently settles on top of him.

"Thank god for magical birth control..." Stephen says, weakly.

"Even our magic isn't one-hundred percent guaranteed, Stephen."

"I imagine any magic that's supposed to kill millions of cells without hurting any others is pretty complicated. Y'know, like the cure to cancer? Way to ruin the mood." Stephen says, gently pushing Wong off him so they can lay beside each other. 

"Is it ruined? You're still smiling."

Stephen rolls his eyes and shimmies closer to him. "Hello, Master Wong."

The corner of Wong's lip curls up. "Hello. Is this a ploy for me to call you  _ master  _ in bed?"

"No. That would be pretty out of character. I just wanted to say  _ hello _ . And that I'm sorry it took me so long for us to get here."

"That's only partly your fault, Stephen. I also share the blame. So does the universe for keeping you in endless loops of misery."

Stephen rests his head on Wong's chest. Wong wraps his arms around him.

"Comes with the job, I suppose. It's worth it for moments like these."

"How romantic of you."

"You'd think that you'd be more into romance with all those romance books you read on your kindle."

Wong keeps his face as expressionless as possible. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You know we share a prime account, right?"

"...Oh."

Stephen chuckles and rests his head against Wong's chest. He presses his hands to the man's skin, seeking warmth. The cold metal pin inside his fingers cool Wong's chest as he feels nothing at all. Stephen sends one feeling: Comfort.

Wong rests a hand to the back of his neck and sames it back. The shared aura fills the room. If Wong sees without his eyes, the entire room is covered in lavender and yellow. Stephen's the brightest of it all. He always is.

Wong looks at his own hands. The colors almost match Stephen's.

"When do you have to go back?" Stephen asks, stroking his face.

"Tomorrow afternoon."

"Then let's make the most of it." The american gives a sad smile and kisses him once again. 

Wong keeps their bodies close, allowing Stephen to feel his heartbeat.  _ I'm alive and here with you _ , it says.  _ I don't want to be without you again. _

\---

They settle on an agreement. Wong gets a cat. An adult, of course, he doesn't have the time to raise a kitten. He already has Stephen for that.

Her name is Xinyi. She likes to sunbathe and listen to him read aloud. She also loves sitting on his shoulder, much to his dismay when he's trying to seem intimidating to the new students. They seem to enjoy it, at least.

Stephen likes the sight of it too.

And yet, Stephen has once again used his magic for little, useless things. The man learned a spell that allows him to speak to animals. He  _ interviewed  _ every animal in the shelter. 

He had to only choose one, which of course took hours. Wong is sure the younger man would have taken every single animal in the shelter back to the Sanctum.

He comes back with the ugliest, oldest basset house he's ever seen. Wong scowled at the sight of him, which most likely made Stephen want to keep it immediately.

Of course, it has the accent of a local to this overcrowded city.

"Hey, Doc. We should get pizza later. Let's go to Morty's." The dog says, somehow keeping up with them despite his tiny legs.

"We went to Morty's yesterday, Bats. And Wong doesn't like Morty's."

"It's filthy." The older sorcerer says. "The reviews on  _ yelp _ are not kind."

"I don't know what a  _ yelp  _ is, but it's probably just haters." The dog says, making Wong frown further. Stephen laughs and says he should stop, or else he'll have permanent frown likes. Wong cares little about what wrinkles he gets, but the large hand comfortably resting on his arm soothes him anyway.

They reach the Sanctum shortly after. Bats entertains himself by running to random rooms and sniffing every last scent. It's been weeks and the animal still hasn't stopped making sure he covers every corner of the old building. It gives him some peace and quiet, and Stephen enjoys hearing a dog describe thr smells that humans cannot detect.

Xinyi slowly walks up to him and caresses her face to his leg. Wong picks her up and makes his hands warmer as he gently scratches her chin. 

Stephen smiles at the sight. "You sure you don't want me to tell you what she's saying about you?"

Wong huffs. "As long as it's not negative, I am not interested. Let a cat be a cat. If we could hear their thoughts, I don't think they would be such a popular pet." 

Stephen walks closer to pet her before he places his hand over Wong's. 

"Thanks for having lunch with me."

"Yes. It was nice." Wong says, stupidly. He has more to say. He always does.

"I heard from Master Tadavi that you think I'm ready to become the Master of the Sanctum."

"Tadavi?"

Stephen shrugs. "You're not the only one from Kamar-Taj I catch up with."

Wong nods. "Yes... I think you are doing better, Stephen. Not perfectly well, but it would be foolish to expect any of us can be. And I think having a pet will help very much in moments where... I may be busy."

Stephen closes the distance between them as Xinyi gracefully falls from his arms and walks away. Wong keeps his hands warm as he takes Stephen's, wrapping two strong hands over trembling skin. Stephen closes his eyes. The sun falls, hiding underneath New York City, meaning it will soon be dawn in Kathmandu. 

"I know you have to leave for drills. You should get moving." Stephen says. However mature and understanding they both might be, there's a hint of ache in their voices. 

They always do this. They say goodbye and go their separate ways but their souls stay in the same place. Love is reaching out for one another. They speak through the astral plane. They open portals large enough for their hands to fit. They tell each other what song they're listening to — they dance together, despite the distance. 

Wong breathes in. "Stephen, over the recent months, I have grown accustomed to a certain level of domesticity. I cannot stay here, but I would like to be by your side as much as possible."

The words wrap over their true meaning like a gift he presents to Stephen. He can open it whenever he'd like, but now's not the time. The sorcerers will open their gifts once they are ready. Once the dust has settled and they can hold each other without having to make sure that ash isn't covering Wong's hands.

He presses a wordless kiss to Wong's cheek. The touch contains infinities. Visions of realities where the kiss repeats itself. Their fates are so entwined in every reality that they've begun to blur.

"Come back to me tonight."

Wong opens his eyes.

"I will."

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated ♡


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